Halo: The Core
by Spartan 010
Summary: A secret organization outside the control of the UNSC prepares for full scale war, the first in its century spanning history. Cursed with having first contact with the Covenant before the UNSC they put forth the CENTURION project to be their spearhead.
1. Chapter 1

**An Installment Of: The Halo Artistic Universe**

**Series: The Core**

This story is dedicated to…

* * *

The Halo Artistic Universe, A single Haloverse compiled of various Role-Plays, Short Stories, Novels and other creative works. A massive collection of this artistic expression composed by a small group of people, all of which are very dear to me. As the H.A.U. is one solid time line made from different works, all of which are considered canon after ret-conning and fit within the lines provided by the current games and novels. H.A.U. will be shown on FanFiction through several short story series, all of which end sometime in the year 2535. Because of one canon time line, crossovers will be inevitable.

KMC Forums… Especially Shne… Without your simple role-play this cataclysmic chain of events would never of happened. Chaos theory at it's best…

- The KMC Forums supporting cast… you know who you are.

- Silent Wolf, Elijah, NolaOne, FinalSeraphim, Blaxican, Ambience, SpawnMaster, and Huon played the most prominent role.

SilentWolf and Elijah, your support and contribution to this Halo Universe goes beyond thanks. Ambience, your cheerful attitude always managed to make me smile. Oh, I forgot Nola…

Jeff Tang… Your advice changed my outlook on life, thanks man.

Raelynn Lopez… You're twice as pretty as you are half creative… A special thanks to you, because this Halo Universe started with you, and not myself as I have come to realize. You'll always be a princess in my eyes Rae.

Bungie! Your game was fun… I enjoyed the carnage, and the music. Thank you for both.

Microsoft, thanks for making the X-box. I don't think much of it now but I did way back when… Oh… your Flight Simulator entertained me in my first grade of school.

Everyone else who's ever participated in any of my role-plays, said anything concerning my or my friend's work, and everyone else… I don't know why I should thank you but I do anyway. I'm sure most of you have beautiful minds and souls… Thanks for contributing to the world. Live long, love lots.

Let the story flow…


	2. Chapter 2

**Prologue **

A Birth of Legend

**/2521/September 1****st****/Earth Standard Time/**

**/Pearl Star Cluster/PsyCore Control/**

Only a few minutes after the large deep grey star ship had made its exit from slipspace, back into the normal realm of existence, a small puff of blackish-purple light signalled the departure of a small black vessel from the its docking bay. The flawless black color of the small one manned spacecraft would have made it invisible against the background of space, however the warped yet crystal clear reflection of floating stars that caressed along it's sleek hull as it sliced through the empty void just barely gave away its position to the naked eye. In total silence the small craft made its way toward the nearby planetoid, Angel Moon.

The interior of the cockpit seemed only slightly brighter than the space outside, lit only by the dim and darkly coloured emanations coming the console. The pilot seemed to be more in shadow than anything else. Behind a pair of sunglasses that were dimmed to be almost as black as the hull of the vessel that he controlled his eyes methodically swept across the controls positioned in a semicircle in front of him. His hands followed, fingers silently dancing across the console's intricate display of buttons and commands. Nuron spared a moment to gaze up through the cockpit, more specifically at the right wing of his personal craft, allowing himself to marvel at the display the reflected stars had decided to grant him as they swam across the hull of his ship giving it a liquid like quality.

He paused for a moment. Looking down at his left hand he turned it over. The red light flowing outward from the console reflected across the black glove giving it an almost eerie aura. He blinked. The glove looked like it was made of a synthesized plastic-leathery material due to its reflective properties, but the material served other purposes aside from appearance. Still… PsyCore had an odd liking to things that didn't look friendly. He shrugged, his hand moving back to the controls. It was good to be home.

"PsyCore Chameleon 001-A approaching Angel Moon upon requested vector." He said, bringing up the proper frequency. "Transmitting clearance codes. You can run a voice recognition program if you want." He added.

There was a slight pause before the reply came. "Clearance granted. You may dock in Bay-5, Hangar-2. Nice having you back Nuron."

"I'm sure that's exactly how you feel." The pilot said, altering his course toward the assigned location. "Nuron out." The transmission ended with a beep as his right hand came off the controls to rest on the armrest at his side. He grinned to himself slightly, mildly amused at his comment despite the fact that it completely lacked any display of wittiness or intelligence. He may be part of the affiliation known as PsyCore… but he still found simple things funny from time to time.

The small spacecraft angled to the side and curve in a downward arc as it blasted off to its destination, already hundreds of kilometres out of sight from the larger starship it had so recently left. Beyond the ship, thousands of kilometres distant floated the ambient presence of Angel Moon. The large planetoid, resembling something akin to a moon from Earth biased standards, drifted through space along its orbit in a heavenly fashion. Its deep purple surface was blessed with a tranquil blue mixture, and gave off a majestic halo of faint colour and light. The sight became even more spectacular as Nuron's craft continued on it's course as the Pearl Nebula exploded into view from behind the planetoid, a blazing mixture of red, orange, and yellow.

The dim red glow that lit the interior of the craft's cockpit suddenly burst into a much brighter version as the light from the nebula forced its way in. Nuron raised a hand instinctively to shield his eyes. He'd been here many times but the sight never ceased to both startle, and amaze him. The cockpit and his glasses both compensated and darkened, dimming the light back to his requested settings. His hand dropped, and his eyes fixed on the sight before him. The intensity of the light the nebula gave off projected an illusion of close proximity however the stars around it, which resembled the most priceless of rubies, betrayed it's many light-years distance, and many light-years depth. The stars around the outside of the nebula were much larger than those seen clustering together on the inside. It was a sight even a PsyCore could not put into words. With his spirit lifted his mind drifted to his thanks at this blessing, which would make confronting the much darker task that lay ahead him an easier ordeal.

A little while later his eyes moved to the surface of Angel Moon. With no atmosphere it was in perfect tranquility. Massive canyons that were miles deep were carved into its surface and contrasted against the colossal rock spires and other intricate formations that jutted outward. In its calm and tranquility, it provided a sight to rival the celestial body overhead. They were opposites. One extreme and powerful, and the other mellow and quiet, yet neither failed to deliver a sense of wonder.

This was the true spirit of PsyCore.

* * *

Minutes later the small craft landed on the metal floors of Bay-5, Hangar-2 with a gentle thud.

Nuron descended from the belly of his vessel into the light of the more brightly lit hangar. The light revealed his skin to the paler than usual as well as slightly translucent in some places, and confirmed that every piece of clothing he wore was either black or dark grey down to his gloves. Veins were partly visible at both of his temples, the backs of his hands, as well as one on his forehead. They were a deep purplish-blue in colour, slightly faded out by the flesh covering them. His lips carried a small amount of the same blue tint. His hair was jet black and sleeked back. The veins in his eyes were darker than usual as well, but hid behind his sunglasses. Underneath a light jacket that was obviously part of a military uniform, an above average build was visible boasting nicely built shoulders. He was no body builder, but the fact that he was a soldier was obvious. The look of the jacket led to speculation of something with completely synthetic origin due to the odd appearance of the material. Like plastic leather, but not shiny. He wore gloves that revealed his knuckles and fingers, and were long enough to disappear under the sleeves of his jacket hiding his wrists from view. The right index finger was covered. His pants were dark grey, and looked to be made of the same material as well. He stood at approximately 5'11, carried Russian facial features, and looked around twenty years of age or in his latest teen years.

His footsteps echoed slightly as he stepped off the ramp leading from his transport and onto the floor of the hangar. He looked around. It was the same as he'd remembered it. A simple cube with two levels for Chameleons to dock in, the bottom level being the floor, and the top level being suspended and criss-crossed with walkways. He could still see the ceiling through it all. It, the floor, and the walkways were all made of the same dull grey, and slightly reflective metal though the walkways were slightly darker. The hangar itself stretched almost one hundred meters high, four hundred wide, and two hundred deep in it's entirety. At the middle of the innermost wall the control station jutted out with its base several meters above the floor. In it three of his fellow soldiers went about their monitoring duties. The walls were made of a darkly tinted glass and angled outward so those inside could see the entire hangar including what was directly below them.

Nuron's eyes focused on the monitoring station. He dimly saw the shape of someone watching him from the other side of the glass. When he looked however, the shape retreated further into the room and disappeared. His eyes moved downward, closer to the floor below base of the stations foundation. Close to the bottom right corner sat the only door leading in and out of the room. It opened.

The man who stepped through stood half an inch taller than Nuron did. His build was slightly bulkier, and his clothing resembled that of Nuron's with the exception of the gloves, and the material appeared to be less elaborate and less artificial. "You're late." He said. "By fifty three seconds. Deviating from your usual routine of precise punctuality."

"There were unforeseen complications at our research facilities at The Gates." Nuron said, stopping a few feet in front of the other. "The entire facility has been reduced to almost nothing, production won't be happening again, at all. The survivors were evacuated and the orbital MAC Cannons were pulled through the slip-gates for restoration. The Covenant force was defeated, though at unacceptable cost. We left probes to survey the system for when they come back. The base will be destroyed entirely within days." His voice wasn't cold in the sense that he disliked those he talked to, but it still projected that aura. Beyond a lifetime of intense discipline, he sounded like a man who'd seen too much bad in the universe, had been wizened by it and taken as much good and learning as he could out of it without being corrupted himself, but had been ultimately hardened by his experiences. His voice was as void of emotion as it could get while still retaining some measure of heart and humanity. It even expressed a bit of ice, but barely. He handed over a PDA.

"That's what happened last time. They come in, destroy almost everything but we manage to inflict heavy casualties." The other man took the PDA and thumbed the controls at the bottom of the small hand held device. Information scrolled across the screen. "They seemed to do the exact same thing as they did during first contact, with the exception of the message. No wonder we destroyed most of their ships… our strategy would've been flawless." His voice was also a bit cold and void of emotion, but still managed to be friendlier, not as unsettling. It projected none of the ice that Nuron's did.

"Or as flawless as it can get. We still lost Ajax." Nuron said. "If these aliens intend on war, there's no way we can win." His usually completely emotionless tone turned grim.

Ajax turned the PDA off and put it in a pocket at his side. "By we, do you mean PsyCore or humanity?" He said, looking back up at Nuron after stowing the device.

Nuron didn't respond for several seconds. "Both."

The two said no more; they'd exchanged their words. Ajax turned and both headed for, and then went through the door into a corridor that was two meters wide. Ajax turned to the left, headed back to the monitoring station. Nuron headed forward, deeper into the installation.

"Nuron."

The young Field Agent stopped, and then turned to face Ajax.

"We seem to have one advantage… These aliens. It dosen't look like they learn very fast."

Nuron said nothing; let no change seep into his expression. PsyCore had been cursed with having their first contact before the UNSC. So far seven separate operations had been found and reduced to floating atoms and useless slag by these Covenant. The alien's tactics had not changed, and PsyCore was inflicting more and more casualties to their side with each battle. The recent victory at The Gates, if it could be called that, showed their success. However these aliens possessed technology far beyond even PsyCore's in almost every way. Despite further success it seemed obvious this war was going to be a modern Armageddon. He looked at Ajax for one more second before turning and continuing on his way. Soon he was alone, and the only sounds to accompany him were the very faint humming of the station and his own footsteps. He was going to his quarters so he could get some rest. It had been a tiring mission, and the results of his adventure didn't help to lighten his mood.

* * *

Nuron awoke as he always did, lying straight with his hands at his sides. He wasn't sure if he remained still in his sleep, or simply returned to the position he'd fallen asleep in before he woke up in his slumber. It was a question he asked himself every time he woke up without bothering to figure out the answer. Seconds after his eyes opened his alarm began beeping, as it always did. He rolled over and shut it off before climbing out of bed and getting ready for the day.

He hadn't spoken to the Overseer in charge of Angel Moon about the events of his previous mission. It wasn't protocol but it was his usual style. Khaine would be wondering why he'd broken his normal routine. There was that plus the fact that he had been recalled to Angel Moon via a transmission with both alpha priority and very heavy encryptions. They made damn well sure it was for his eyes-only. Something important was happening.

He stepped out of his quarters in a uniform that looked identical to the one he'd worn the previous day. He winced. The metal of the hallways walls was a brighter grey and reflected the lights more than his quarters. He glanced over his shoulder. The walls of his room were a dark grey and the lighting was dim, as it had been in his craft. PsyCore designs never were colourful, but he took that mood to a whole new level with his avoidance of light.

Nuron made his way deeper into the installation, and deeper under the surface of Angel Moon. The ceiling and floor of the hallway were of the same colour as his quarters, however the walls were brighter. Lights were placed in the space where the ceiling connected with the walls and framed with the darker colour of the ceiling so that it looked like they were part of the structure itself. They were forty centimetres wide and made to look like they were part of the ceiling and walls, like one unit. The space where the floor and walls connected was filled in with a similar design, but it was metal grates showing, but not allowing access to power lines instead. It made the hallways shaped like an octagon instead of a rectangle. The hallway was five meters in height and three meters width. Much larger than was needed for people, but PsyCore's tools and creations needed to be moved around somehow.

Nuron may have failed to speak to Overseer Necron the prior night, however he could still speak to him now. There was no doubt Necron had already read the entirety of his report on the PDA, but a talk could always relay information one cannot detect in simple text. The situation was bad. All of those within PsyCore knew that. The Field Agent still felt he needed to communicate the grimness of the situation through his tone.

Nuron halted when he came to the elevators. The one placed at the end of the corridor opened only seconds after he'd stopped. A man stepped out and started toward him once he'd noticed his presence. He was a little over an inch shorter than Nuron, with white hair instead of black. He lacked the sunglasses and two dark brown eyes took their place. His clothing was similar, but he wore no gloves and it was a lighter shade of grey. There was an insignia on the man's jacket over both his shoulder areas that were made to look like two spheres composed of a grid pattern, overlapping and coloured a faded gold. His skin was not quite as pale and his other features also seemed more normal by human standards.

"Overseer Necron." Nuron said, nodding. The Overseer who was obviously a superior, nodded back. "I trust Angel Moon has been doing well since it's under your care?"

The man kept moving, and motioned Nuron to follow. "Walk." Was all he said, not bothering to acknowledge the question, Nuron fell in line. "You didn't give your usual report yesterday evening." He said, turning to look at Nuron for a moment before once again looking forward. "It dosen't matter. I already know the results from the file you sent me, regardless of your little break form tradition… I know you prefer to speak to those you report to in person, and for good reason." He paused. "Still, the Covenant threat is obvious. We saw that after second contact and the situation continues to escalate. Now it is the first of September. You know what that means, the project we are undertaking, the one you will be leading. Understand that you are still our chief operative working against the Covenant Nuron. If we succeed you will be at the frontlines of all out war." He finished, waiting for an answer.

Nuron showed no response for some time. Eventually, he took in a deep breath in which Necron noted an extreme amount of apprehension… for a PsyCore, and not just any PsyCore. This was Nuron. Although the sign of apprehension was barely detectable, PsyCore were all rock solid. Their work was for 'the greater good', but they took the approach of a harsh hand of order that did what needed to be done. All of those within the organization were as determined and hardcore as it could be in that sense. However in this situation Nuron's anxiety was not something to be frowned upon. The magnitude of his coming task was enough to get any man's heart to skip a beat. It showed that despite being known as the coldest, most determined and mind-set of all the PsyCore Field Agents Nuron was still human.

"September first." Nuron said simply. "Our Centurions are born." He looked over at his superior as if he were waiting for something. The other man was more academic than he was. PsyCore has its soldiers, and it's thinkers. He himself was somewhere in the middle. Nuron was top of the line however, the best of the best. He was a better soldier than most. He was smarter and wiser than even many PsyCore's own scholars and philosophers, if you could call them that. However Nuron still understood his role. He couldn't help but have a deep amount of respect for the Overseer he reported to most.

Necron stopped at a doorway; he turned to face his comrade. "Yes." The word was not cold, it was not emotionless, but it could freeze the core of even the warmest of hearts. "Unleash unto them, do we, a lifetime of death, destruction, and suffering? Or will their legacy be one of salvation…?"

Nuron arched an eyebrow.

Necron's expression failed to change. "More theatrical than what it deserves perhaps, but I think our super-soldiers will end up doing a lot more than just killing. We're not training them as just soldiers after all, they're going to be _warriors_."

The door slid open with a soft hiss as Necron finished putting in the proper codes. Before them was a short, but wide corridor. On either side were five rooms, each visible through a square panel of glass. A newborn infant was in each, on an examining table being probed by instruments held by both man and mechanical creation. Their mothers were nowhere in sight.

Nuron's mind lingered on the last word as the doors opened. Warriors over soldiers, as the Overseer had put it. What did that mean exactly? Was it something to parallel The Core, cold and harsh on the outside, but with an inner spirit to rival any human creation? Trust, honour, loyalty, and glory… all these words came to his mind. No, that was only part of it. PsyCore wasn't breeding soldiers, drones, the Centurions would be _more _than a high-tech military meat shield. They were going to be warriors who fought the good fight for what they believed in. But different words came to form in his mouth as he gazed at the newborns, already being experimented upon; augmented. "They will be killers, none the less."

Necron eyes looked in the direction of the room, but focused on something far beyond it, as if surpassing the boundaries of time and space. Staring off into the future. "Yes, but only their reputation will be one of cold blooded machines." The Overseer's locked on Nuron's face, which had lost all trace of emotion as his subordinate looked at the young infants. Necron remained still for several seconds before looking at them as well. "But for now, they are only babies."


End file.
